than two hundred years old: his only boast, however, should be that the
room contains nothing which is not of intrinsic beauty, interest, or
good workmanship. The old chairs from the kitchen are dragged into the
drawing-room--because they are old; miniatures unmeritoriously painted
by unknown artists for obscure clients are nailed in conspicuous
places--because they are old; hideous plates and dishes, originally made
by ignorant workmen for impoverished peasants, are enclosed in glass
cases--because they are old; iron-bound chests, which had been cheaply
made to suit the purses of farmers, are rescued from the cottages of
their descendants and sold for fabulous sums--because they are old.

A person who fills a drawing-room with chairs, tables, and ornaments,
dating from the reign of Queen Anne, cannot say that he does so because
he wishes it to look like a room of that date; for if this were his
desire, he would have to furnish it with objects which appeared to be
newly made, since in the days of Queen Anne the first quality noticeable
in them would have been their newness. In fact, to produce the desired
effect everything in the room, with very few exceptions, would have to
be a replica. To sit in this room full of antiques in a frock-coat would
be as bad a breach of good taste as the placing of a Victorian
chandelier in an Elizabethan banqueting-hall. To furnish the room with
genuine antiquities because they are old and therefore interesting would
be to carry the museum spirit into daily life with its attending
responsibilities, and would involve all manner of incongruities and
inconsistencies; while to furnish in this manner because antiques were
valuable would be merely vulgar. There are, thus, only three
justifications that I can see for the action of the man who surrounds
himself with antiquities: he must do so because they are examples of
workmanship, because they are beautiful, or because they are endeared to
him by family usage. These, of course, are full and complete